


El aroma del ámbar

by leiascully



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Light BDSM, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Safe Sane and Consensual, Threesome - F/F/M, Voyeurism, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-12-26 14:02:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things are difficult to ask for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	El aroma del ámbar

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: Post-S6 for DW, pre-S2 for _Sherlock_  
>  A/N: **Contains BDSM and whipping.** The title is inspired by the Café Tacvba song "Volver A Comenzar", which I first heard in the game _Little Big Planet_.  
>  Disclaimer: _Doctor Who_ and all related characters is the property of Russell T. Davies, Stephen Moffat, and BBC. _Sherlock_ and all related characters is the property of Stephen Moffat, Mark Gatiss, and BBC. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

When the TARDIS appears outside her cell, River is out the door and caressing the controls almost before the Doctor can speak.

"And hello to you," he tells her. "You're all dressed up, River. I notice these things. I think I bought you that dress. Those don't look like shoes you can do a lot of running in."

"You might be surprised," she says, putting in the coordinates and hauling on the wibbly lever.

"I had plans, you know," he says, leaning against the console as he crosses his arms and pouts. His hip almost accidentally nearly knocks the zigzag plotter, as if she wouldn't notice.

"I'm sure you did, sweetie," she says, giving him a quick kiss and pushing him gently into a chair. "On the other hand, we have an appointment I'd very much like to keep." She's almost shaking with impatience. Her mouth is dry with anticipation, but other bits are very, very wet. Bless the TARDIS for her speed: in nearly no time, they're landing, and River catches the Doctor's hand and pulls him out the door into a lovely sitting room.

"Hmm," the Doctor says, pacing around the perimeter of the room. "Twenty-first century Earth, not very interesting. Nice furniture, though. All right, why are we here?"

"You'll see," River says. "Soon. I hope."

"No sooner said," drawls a woman's voice, and there she is in the doorway, sleek in an extremely well-tailored suit. She slinks into the room on a pair of gorgeous heels. "River Song, I imagine."

"Yes," River says, straightening her shoulders. "And this is the Doctor."

"Charmed, I'm sure," the woman says, eyeing them both as if she's taking their precise measurements. "Shall we take ourselves somewhere a little more apropos?"

"What's wrong with here?" the Doctor demands, glancing between River and the woman.

"Ah, he doesn't know?" the woman asks. "Even better."

"Better for what?" the Doctor asks suspiciously.

"Better for you," the woman says. "For your sake, I hope you're a quick study."

"The quickest," River assures her. "There's hardly any one more clever than the Doctor."

"Good," the woman says. "Then I don't need to say anything more." She looks over her shoulder as heels click toward them. "Kate, take them upstairs, would you?"

"Gladly," says Kate, smirking just a bit. She raises an eyebrow. "Come with me, please."

"Why exactly are we here?" the Doctor hisses in River's ear as they climb the stairs, following Kate's red hair and swaying backside and the scarlet soles of her shoes.

"You'll see," River murmurs back. "There was something I needed."

"You could have just asked," the Doctor tells her.

"There are things that even I find it difficult to ask for," River says quietly.

Kate opens a door for them at the top of the stairs and gestures them in. "Make yourselves comfortable," she says, a hint of that smirk still in her voice. "Irene will be with you in a moment."

"Irene?" the Doctor asks.

"Irene Adler," River says, looking around the room. It's a bedroom, sumptous and elegant all at once, the furniture dark and heavy and the light soft and gold and the air scented with some sort of perfume whose main notes seem to be amber and musk. It's understated but powerful, that scent. River breathes deep and the perfume fills her lungs, fills her skin, warm and sexy. "She goes by 'The Woman', generally, which you ought to like."

"Certainly to the point," the Doctor says. "'The Woman' indeed. No disguising that." He takes off his jacket and tosses it over a chair.

"Why should I?" Irene asks, coming in. "It would probably be bad for business, for one." She's now wearing a very sheer dressing gown and lacy black underthings, but she's kept the heels on. She carries a riding crop and a long whip loosely and easily in her hand. "I've never heard of a dominatrix who gets paid to put more clothes on."

"Things that were difficult to ask for," the Doctor says. "I see."

"Oh now, Doctor," Irene says lightly. "Don't be that way about it. Consider this: to come here with you, your wife is trusting you completely, body, mind, and soul. I don't generally do couples - that usually breaks up a marriage. Even powerful women want to relinquish control now and again, Doctor. _Especially_ powerful women want to relinquish control. But it takes a great deal of courage, an immense amount, to humble yourself to ask for someone to dominate you, especially when those around you expect you to take charge. Now sit," she says, her voice snapping out. To River's surprise, and no doubt the Doctor's as well, he does, settling in a convenient armchair.

"Good," Irene says, smiling. "Well. We might as well start by getting you into something more comfortable, hmm?"

River strips out of her dress, laying it over a chaise longue at the foot of the enormous bed with her bra and her knickers, but she leaves her heels on. Irene's eyes are approving. She drops the long whip on the bed and weighs the crop in her palm. River stands very straight. She isn't afraid, but the adrenaline coursing through her makes her tremble ever so slightly. God, she wants this. It isn't easy to surrender, and she loves being the Doctor's hired gun most of the time, but there are moments when she just wants to be utterly taken over, to submit to the total control of someone who cares for her. She's been in the control of those who loathed her and she isn't keen to repeat the experience, but this. This is different. Irene stands there, icy cool in the warm room, and River holds herself with all the dignity she can manage, when what she wants to do is beg to be overcome.

Irene taps the smooth shaft of the riding crop against her palm again and River imagines the feel of the leather against her skin. She doesn't have to imagine it for long; as if she can read River's mind, Irene brings up the crop and traces the curve of River's breasts. River glances at the Doctor, who's suddenly watching with an air of extreme interest and a singular focus. His hand rests on his lap, but the cup of his hand can't quite disguise his erection. Irene flicks the tip of the crop, lightly snapping each of River's nipples, and River could melt.

"Lovely," Irene murmurs. "Absolutely lovely. Doctor, I hope you appreciate her properly."

"I hope so too," the Doctor says, his voice loaded with irony. "I'm having doubts at the moment."

"By all means, let this be a learning experience," Irene says, offering him the riding crop. "No? We'll see if you change your mind." She turns back to River, drawing the lash up from River's ankle up the outside of her leg. She gives River a little tap on the thigh, just firm enough to sting a bit. It feels wonderful, sending warmth all through her body just the way the perfumed air does. Irene traces paths all over River's body - perhaps she's writing a thesis on whipping technique, or drawing a map of the Underground. River doesn't care. Irene drags the lash across River's lips and down her throat and River moans quietly. The Doctor leans forward in his chair, his own lips parted.

"Interested now?" Irene asks, her voice light. She lets the cut side of the lash scrape over River's nipples and down her front.

"in a manner of speaking," the Doctor says.

"And how are you getting on?" Irene asks River, using her fingers to brush River's curls gently back from her face.

"Fine," River says. "Wonderful."

"Good," Irene says. "We'll take it to the next level, I think." She circles around River and pops her thigh with the lash, harder this time. The Doctor makes a little noise of protest, but River doesn't jump - she has that much self-possession - and he settles back into the chair. She relishes the sting of it, anyway. Perhaps if she doesn't move, Irene will hit her harder. And she does, quite skilfully, until River's ass is warm and her skin tingles from the blows. She's floating in her own body, dreamy, waiting for the smack of the lash. The amber-scented air wraps around her, as comforting as Irene's control. Nothing will happen in this room that Irene doesn't ordain, and though it is, in a manner of speaking, tough love, at least she can be certain that Irene's intentions are largely benevolent. After all, there's no use in killing a client, and no reason to use her for any greater mischief than what's permitted between consenting parties.

Irene draws the lash down the inside of River's thighs this time. The Doctor murmurs in his chair, but River is focused on the smooth fold of the leather and the rough edge on her sensitive skin. Irene tickles River's knees and her calves and then finally, finally draws the shaft between River's legs. The leather is ridged, spiraling around the shaft, and oh, it catches at River's skin in all the right ways. The soft suppleness of it grazes River's clit and she gasps. Irene smiles, sliding the shaft back and forth between River's folds until River thinks she might break into pieces. She gasps in deep breaths of the sweet air. Her legs tremble until she regrets leaving her heels on, but she stands steady as Irene teases her. Irene moves behind her, still sliding the crop between River's legs as her long manicured nails gently rake the nape of River's neck and down her spine.

"You're a strong one, aren't you?" Irene purrs in River's ear. "Careful, Doctor. I like this one. I might have to have her off you."

"She does what she likes," the Doctor says. "Clearly. But yes, she is very strong. She's amazing."

"Come and have a go," Irene commands. She holds out the crop to the Doctor. River makes a little inadvertent pleading noise and the Doctor stands up slowly, taking the crop from Irene. River wants this so much, wants him to take charge of her. The whip is only the means to the end: she of all people knows how fallible he is, but here today in this room, she wants to believe that he stands between her and all the rest of the universe, and that she's safe in his care.

"Be firm," Irene tells him. "There's no point in it if you're not going do it properly."

"I don't want to hurt you, River," the Doctor says.

"Please," River says. "Trust me. If it's too much, I'll tell you."

Irene slides her hand down the Doctor's forearm, curling her fingers over his. The Doctor looks down at her, and River can tell that Irene startles him, with her cunning and her control and her sheer chemistry.

"Not just a tap," she breathes at him. "A tap means that you're not really taking charge. It means you're leaving the burden of control on her. Even if it goes against your every instinct, if you want to do right by her, you can't do it halfway."

She draws back the Doctor's arm and helps him swing, and the lash meets River's skin with a nice resounding thwack and a pleasant sting. River holds her ground. The Doctor lets out a noisy breath.

"That was interesting," he says slowly. "And you're all right, River?"

"Yes," River says with great feeling.

"Better than that, I'd say," Irene says. "See for yourself." She twines her fingers through the Doctor's and slides both their hands between River's legs. River moans at their touch; their fingers glide easily between her folds. She's so very wet, aching for the pressure of their hands. It's all she can to not to rub herself frantically against their fingers.

"That's...very good," the Doctor says, licking his lips.

"That's trust," Irene says.

River moans again, helpless with bliss under the combined caress of their fingers, and the Doctor groans. River can feel Irene gently rubbing the Doctor's hand as they both touch her - he looks nearly mesmerised by all of it.

"What now?" he asks.

"You tell her," Irene says.

"We'll have you right here," the Doctor says after a moment, glancing at Irene. He clears his throat and says, more firmly, "River, don't move. Irene, you stay here. I'll block her in from the back. She could use a little support."

"Good man," Irene says approvingly. She presses herself against River's front as the Doctor maneuvers behind, their hands still twined together between River's legs. His erection presses against the small of River's back. The Doctor's wrist presses firmly against the front of River's hip, the button of his cuff almost biting into her inner thigh, and the slightly rough texture of Irene's dressing gown against River's bare breasts and belly is incredible. They box her in until she's pinned between them; her trembling legs don't matter with the two of them holding her up. The Doctor wraps his arm and River's around Irene, holding them all close.

"Hold very still," the Doctor breathes, pressing a kiss to River's ear. He guides Irene's hand, using the breadth of their wrists to put pressure on River's clit as their fingers slide inside her. She gasps, nearly swooning despite the strong support of their bodies around hers. Irene's free hand comes up to touch River's face.

"Brave girl," she murmurs, brushing River's hair away from her eyes and bending to kiss River's face and throat. She puts her teeth into River's collarbone and River nearly squeals. Their fingers are inside her, filling her up, touching every place she's ever wanted to be touched, and it's incredible. It's too much. Before she even knows it, she's shaking apart in the circle of their arms, her cries drifting on the air.

"Ahh," says the Doctor shakily. "Well. Yes. Quite."

"Not yet," Irene orders. "Don't let her down. Make her come for you again, as many times as you like. You're in charge."

She slides her hand from River's face to River's breast as their fingers move again inside River. The Doctor's pressing himself even harder against River's back, grinding against her, moaning quietly into her ear, and Irene in front of her is warm and unyielding, every bit of her lining up perfectly against River's body. She comes over and over for them, until she's lost count of how many times she's melted into the gold light of the room, until her voice is hoarse and her body is spent.

"Enough," the Doctor says, his own voice a little rough. The cloth of his trousers is sticky against River's back as he slowly pulls away. He and Irene guide River to the bed, easing her down. Irene's carefully pinned-up hair is slightly disheveled and her eyes are bright, but otherwise, she looks nearly as put-together as she did when they began all of this. The Doctor, meanwhile, has lost one of his braces, which dangles in a loop by his hip, and he's clearly in need of a shower.

"I'll leave you two to clean yourselves up," Irene says. "There's a washroom through there. River, you promised to take me somewhere I'd never been. I'll be waiting for your call." She saunters out of the room.

It's an effort to get up, but River manages, finally kicking off her heels and fetching her clothes from the chaise longue. She stumbles into the bathroom with its enormous tub and its expensive fixtures. She finds a cloth and washes herself all over with soap that smells of amber and musk before pulling her clothes back on. The mirror over the sink reflects her very satisfied image back as she tries to tame her hair, which has gone even madder than usual after all their exertions. River touches her trembling fingertips to the tops of the bottles of lotions, soaps, and perfumes that line the counter top. She certainly owes Irene a glorious journey after all of this.

When she goes back into the bedroom, Kate is there waiting to escort them back to the sitting room. The Doctor is holding his jacket over his front, and Kate avoids looking at him with a practised, knowing expression on her face.

"Lovely to meet you," she says as they step into the TARDIS. "Come back again."

"Now _that_ was an experience," the Doctor says, flinging himself down on one of the TARDIS' chairs as River sends the TARDIS spinning through space. "Perhaps we'll have to go back again. After all, she never even used the other lash, that long one. She's, er, very talented."

"I may have borrowed a bottle of her perfume," River tells him, producing a small glass phial.

"You stole from her?" the Doctor says in astonishment. "She'll whip you and this time, she won't be playing at it."

"As delightful as that would be, I do have my reasons," River says. She dabs a touch of the perfume on her wrist and inhales deeply, then waves her hand past the Doctor's nose. His pupils dilate as he catches the scent.

"Ah," he says huskily. "Hmm. Yes. I see."

"Powerful memories locked up in perfumes," River says. "And other smells, of course. Now go and clean yourself up, my love. I'm going for a nap."

"When you get up, perhaps we'll take a quick spin past the bondage planet," the Doctor says. "Pick up a few things."

"I do love you," River says adoringly.

"You had better," says the Doctor, smacking her arse and making her wince. "Sorry."

"Don't be," River says. "It's a nice little reminder." She yawns.

"Sleep," the Doctor orders. "There, see, I could get used to this."

"Don't get too used to it," River tells him. "Your dominion is restricted to the bedroom or any other place we might choose to be naughty."

"Oh," the Doctor says, deflating a little. River kisses him in consolation.

"We'll work it out," she says, and then yawns again. "After I sleep."

"We've got all the time we need," the Doctor promises.


End file.
